Ride Wars
by PageJustice
Summary: Random little stories about the Flock; joys of torture and perverted minds.  I'm not good at summaries, so don't kill me.  R&R, please? I'm going with T just to be safe.
1. Chapter 1: O Joys of Torture

A/N: Well, this is my first Max Ride fanfic (which I like to call 'FangFic'). And if you've heard my name before it was probably from someone else on here so TELL ME HER NAME! (Please, thank you, I love you all.) Review? Maybe, if you like it? If you hate it? Flame all you want, I can take it. This might be a little story of random Flock stuff, like a TV show only, well, not TV.

P.S. I've got a little Arty Fowl (well, not really little. He's older than me.) fic if you like the series. R&R? Maybe? 'Cause you love me?

Disclaimer- Sorry Flock, Mr. Patterson beat me to the publishing thing.

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**Ride Wars:**

**O Joys of Torture **

"FANG YOU'RE-SO-LUCKY-YOU-HAVE-NO-OTHER-NAMES!" I'm proud to say that my voice carried across the house, and I imagined the windows rattling in their frames. It was really too bad the rest of the Flock was in town, shopping for Christmas presents, because Nudge would have been so impressed.

Fang's dark head appeared cautiously around a corner, but his stealth skills were no match for my ninja ones, and he got a face full of pillow. His muffled 'oomph' seemed to make sun shine brighter through the windows. Oh, the joy of torturing the ones you loved.

"Was there a particular reason you shattered half the glasses in the kitchen?" Fang asked, coming into the laundry room, carrying the clean pillow that had got acquainted with his face. He tossed it back into a basket and leaned up against the rumbling dryer. When I chucked a pair of jeans at him, he caught them mid-air.

"You. Fold. Now." I demanded as I reached my hand back into the dryer. My arms came out full of multi-colored clothes, and I carefully picked out the underwear, tossing them to Fang. When it came to saving the world from evil scientists, or wolf-man hybrids, or both, I was Miss. Super-Awesome-Amazing-Kick-Ass-Bitch-From-Hell. But throw me into a room full of underwear (clean or otherwise), and, well, even I had limits.

Fang looked down at a pair of pink underwear, glancing again back at me. "Um, Max, why don't we all just do our own underwear?"

His dark profile was at the corner of my eye, and I scooped up a laundry basket. I held it out expectantly and he dumped the remaining under-things into it.

"And that is why I love you." I smiled my smug smile of victory. Problem averted, I leaned against the wall opposite Fang. He shared my smug smile, but for different reasons.

"What?" My arms crossed in front of me as I stared him down, my smile slipping. His grin just widened. I rolled my eyes.

"Don't get too cocky Mr. Big and Muscular. I'm the girl in this relationship, remember? I control you." I looked into his dark eyes, and my stomach did this queasy little flip.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Fang scoffed, apparently assuming the worst I could do was make him fold laundry. I uncrossed my arms and pushed up from the wall, going over the tips Ella had given me. Oh, she may be little, but Ella had a mind like no other.

I moved so I was pressed right up to Fang's chest, but not leaning on him. My arms went up as a barrier, and he knew it, because his dark eyes went darker. They danced with emotion, but the rest of his face stayed blank. His breath came faster and I could feel his heart rate picking up. I leaned onto my hands, which pressed flat against his muscled abs.

"Oh, trust me. I can make you do all kinds of things." I reached my face up (I didn't have to go very far) and pressed my lips against his, letting my mouth open just the tiniest bit. His arms instantly went around my waist, and I knew that I'd never let go if he got me comfortable. I moved my mouth off his after a second, lightly brushing my tongue over his bottom lip, earning a sound of desire from his mouth. Perfect.

"_All_ kinds of things," I said again, sliding my hands down his chest to just above his belt buckle. His breathing stopped and the look on his face was too priceless. He moved his arms to pull me closer, but I just patted his stomach before I spun out of his grasp, picking up a basket full of sheets on my way. I let myself one evil chuckle before walking out of the room.

**Yes, no, maybe? I should never write again? Tell me, please! I beg of you! I might write another part if I get some reviews….**

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Next time on Ride Wars, Iggy's imagination goes a little _too_ far…


	2. Chapter 2: No Perks for Pervs

A/N: So, another episode…err, chapter! Woho! Review cause you love me and you know it! Thanks to my awesome friend Faxnessforever13 for revealing her name (check out her stuff if you think you can handle the Awesome).

-`-Page-`-

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**Ride Wars:**

**No Perks for Pervs**

Iggy walked into the house, careful with the five bags in his hands. He carried them to his room, careful to shut and lock his door behind him. He walked to his closet, stuffing them in the very back, at the very bottom, so no one would find them. Iggy knew that Gazzy or Nudge—or even Max—would come snooping for their Christmas present sooner or later. Best to be prepared.

Iggy silently touched the top of his bed, feeling the lack of sheets. He huffed hair out of his eyes and went in search of Max, who had had laundry duty that day. By the time his hearing picked up her voice, he'd already suspected. Outside her door, Iggy raised a hand to knock when he heard Fang's voice.

"Max, would you stop? It has to go the other way or else it won't fit!" Iggy heard a creaking of bedsprings. Curious—and, he had to admit, a little creeped out—he stopped and listened.

"What are you talking about? It's supposed to go that way—hey! Don't even think about putting that in my mouth"—Max's voice was muffled. Iggy's blind stare was incredulous as he stood, rooted to the spot.

"You know that's not going to fit on it, don't you? It's too small, go find another one." Fang's voice this time, and more rustles.

"Oh yes it will fit. It's—just—too—hard." Dull thuds came from inside the room, and Iggy felt queasy. Why in _hell _was he just _standing_ there? A louder bang echoed from the room.

"Fang!" Max giggled. "Stop fooling around and help me spread this."

Iggy dry-heaved, and running from the door, made it to the bathroom just in time to vomit. He was going to have nightmares for the rest of his days, no matter how many times he heaved his lunch.

**Max and Fang, a few minuets ago.**

**(Max)**

I set the basket on my bed, pulling out the bottom sheet. Throwing one side to Fang, we shook it out over the bare bed. I tried to pull it towards me, getting the corners down over the edge.

"Max," Fang's voice was frustrated. "Would you stop? It has to go the other way or else it won't fit!"

I stared incredulously at the bed's shape, at the sheet, then at Fang. "What are you talking about? It's supposed to go that way." Fang came towards me, grabbing a clean sock out of the basket. He balled it up, advancing. "Hey! Don't even think about putting that in my mouth." He grabbed my arms, shoving the sock into my mouth, shutting me up successfully. I spit it out with a look of pure loathing at Fang. Now I'd have to wash it again.

I angrily grabbed my pillow and snatched up a pillow case. I furiously stuffed the pillow into it.

"You know that's not going to fit on it, don't you? It's too small, go find another one." Fang grabbed it out of my hand and threw it back into the basket. Defiant, I grabbed it back.

"Oh yes it will fit," I stated, grabbing my pillow again. "It's—just—too—hard." I punctuated each word with a good punch to the bag of fluff, and when Fang rolled his eyes and reached for the top sheet, I stuck out my foot, causing him to trip. He let go of the sheet mid fall, and I grabbed it.

"Fang," I chastised. "Stop fooling around and help me spread this!" I tossed the opposite end of the sheet in the air, causing it to flutter down onto the bed. When Fang got up, we heard footsteps run down the hall and a door slam somewhere in the house, probably the bathroom.

Fang and I looked at each other. "I guess the cavalry's back."

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Short, I know, but they're fun that way! So, if you're an Iggy fan (as I am) and you find this sick and twisted, well, sucks. If you think it's awesome and you love it, tell me please! For inspiration. First reviewer gets to be in the next one….

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Next time on Ride Wars: Underwear chases and public bathrooms!


	3. Chapter 3: Bathroom Battles

A/N: So, here's the next part. Thanks to all of you actually reading this story (I love you all). You know you want to review…you know you want to. You can't resist. I'll give you a virtual cookie…? And since Faxnessforever13 was the first to review, she's in this as 'Madyson'. I'm going to do the same thing as last time; first reviewer gets to be in the next one! (Sorry Fax, not you again.)

Disclaimer-

Me: Hmm…I don't think I really want to admit this.

Fang: Just say it, Page.

Me: Naww, maybe later.

Max: Eh hem*cracks knuckles*

Me: Okay, alright! Sheesh! I am not the all supreme JP and do not own the Max Ride books/characters/awesomeness.

Fang: Good girl.

Me: *mumbles under breath*

Iggy: Uh, _where's_ he shoving his 'good girl'?

Me: hehehe…..

-`-Page-`-

**Ride Wars:**

**Bathroom Battles**

"Max," said Nudge, peering around Iggy's shoulder. "What exactly are we looking for again? 'Cause you said that Fang said that"—

"For the hundredth time, Nudge," I pinched my nose. "We are investigating this murder. It looked suspicious; maybe evil-scientist/wolf-mutant related. I just wanted to make sure nothing's serious."

"Do you mean, like, that following-you-for-five-blocks suspicious?" piped up the Gasman, looking the part of innocent nine year old.

My eyes squinted at him, "Exactly, Gazzy." Then, I noticed the two men walking behind us, both decked out in black sunglasses, black clothes, and ears stuffed with communicators. I swore under my breath (no need for Angel to start spouting profanity ever time she stubbed a toe), and nodded to Fang. We were being followed by Erasers, I was sure.

Ahead of us, a construction site loomed, right next to a baseball field and a cement building beside that. We had two options: stand and fight against unknown number of Erasers, or hide. Usually, I was all for the action, but I'd had a _really_ bad day trying to cook edible food.

"Let's try the field first, check for and places to pull a U and A. We don't want anyone else coming after us with pitchforks." I directed the Flock to the baseball field, but stopped when Fang's hand came down on my shoulder.

"Look," he motioned, indicating the six or seven people standing in the field. Erasers. I rolled my eyes and started for the construction sight, everyone jogging to keep out of the erasers grabbing range. They were closer, not even ten feet behind. I rolled my shoulders, expecting a fight. No use punching with stiff muscles.

As I thought, five more erasers came out of the construction sight (which looked more like a war zone) and headed towards us. We backed up as a whole.

I had just enough common sense to realize we were being herded when Fang was grabbed from behind. I lunged for the eraser at exactly the same time he lobbed Fang into the nearest solid object, which happened to be a dark green porta-potty, it's door wide open (presumably to air out the smell). He slammed into it, and the door slammed shut from the force of impact.

"Shit." I sent my elbow into the erasers face, followed by a snappy roundhouse that left him gasping on his back like a fish.

"Get to that building!" I hissed to the rest of the flock, indicating the giant cement block by the baseball field. I pushed Iggy in the general direction and left the others to help him. A low groan came from inside the porta-potty, and I was about to head over when another hand grabbed the back of my jacket.

"Hey, put me—!" Too late—the eraser threw me strait towards my destination. I slammed into the green plastic door, rocking the portable bathroom back onto its heels and toppling it over. Fang screamed from inside, sounding like a six-year old girl who'd seen a spider. I promised myself I'd laugh at him later.

Standing up—my ankle was definitely sprained—I wrenched open the porta-potty door, extending my hand to Fang. The smell was horrible, and the hand that grabbed mine was squishy.

"Max," said Fang, slowly emerging from the doorway. He was covered, head to foot, in nauseous smelling muck. And when I say 'muck', I mean brown, chunky, slimy, goopy, unknown substances. I honestly knew what they were, but since I occasionally enjoyed kissing Fang, I pretended I didn't see the muck covering his face.

The erasers were helping up their comrade. I looked at Fang's fill-covered-ness. The only solution that came to mind was simple.

"Take it off," I said, gesturing towards his clothes. We had one shot to get back to the flock, and it wouldn't help if the erasers could smell us the whole time.

"Why?" Fang asked, glaring at me. I glared back. "Fine," he huffed, stripping off his muck-stained shirt. He turned it inside out and used it to scrub at his face and arms. Off went his shoes, socks, and pants. He glared at me more when I smirked at him.

"I am _not_ taking my underwear off." He said, his eyes daring me to challenge.

"Okay, but let's _go_." I pulled on his arm and we ran towards the stone building off to the side of the baseball field. The erasers were following us now, and the flock was waiting for us. If I hadn't been running, I would have smacked my forehead. Did they _ever_ listen to me? My feet skidded to a halt and Nudge threw open the door. We piled in, and I slammed it behind me, sliding a sturdy looking bolt home. I closed my eyes and leaned against the door in relief. It would hold long, but it would be long enough.

Then I noticed the deathly silence in the room. Running water was all I heard.

I opened my eyes to the bathroom, first seeing Fang's furious face about the whole 'bathroom' thing (I would imagine he had a new phobia). Next, I saw the baseball glove sitting on the edge of the sink, and then its owner.

The girl was gaping, open mouthed at them. Her eyes kept sliding back to Fang, who was practically naked—save his underwear—and covered in muck, despite his efforts to clean it off. I saw he nose wrinkle when she caught a whiff of what he'd rolled in.

In my head, hoping Angel was listening, I begged her not to say anything. And of course, she didn't listen to me.

"Hi," she said, stepping towards the girl. "I'm Angel." She held out her hand.

The other girl (who looked to be around my age) shook it. "I'm Mady." And then: "do you guys need some…err…help?"

I put on my polite face. "Oh no, we're fine. We're just gonna hang out in here for a little while." She turned off the water and picked up her glove.

"Well, then do you mind if I, ah…" she used her glove to point at the door.

"No!" I said, a little too loud and a little too fast. She narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

"It's just that, these guys were following us and we had to hide. If they see you come out of here, they might think you're with us." I added a 'wouldn't want that' edge to my voice, hoping to scare her off and agree. Mady nodded her head mutely.

The door behind me gave a jarring thud, sending me sprawling forward onto hard tile. I jumped up, spinning to fight—

—and then I woke up.

"Max, stop talking, you'll wake up the whole house!" I sat bolt upright, taking in the darkened room, the open door, and Fang crouched down beside my bed. He smirked, and all his clothes were on, with no muck covering him.

"But—me—you—no pants…" I let my sentence trail off, scanning the room. A sigh escaped me. "My bedroom."

"_Excuse_ me?" Fang asked, blinking. I looked down at him and his incredulous expression. I mulled my last words over. Hmm…best to leave him hanging.

"Sorry—just a dream. You know, you with no clothes, erasers, the usual."

"Uh, what about the part with me and no clothes?" Fang asked again, blowing dark hair away from his eyes to stare me down better. I chuckled.

I flopped back down onto my bed and rolled so my back was facing him. I closed my eyes and smirked.

"Goodnight, Fang."


	4. Chapter 4: Iggy's Innuendos

Ride Wars:

Iggy's Innuendos.

For lack of better word, Iggy looked like a fashion disaster. Being able to feel colors, anyone would think that he'd have the sense of mind to wear clothes that didn't belong in Angel's closet. For example, the hot pink t-shirt with frilly gold inscription clashed with his red-blond hair.

Ella wasn't prepared to actually _say_ any of this to him, though. She'd much rather have him walk around the house (and hopefully she'd be able to drag him into public) and make a complete fool of himself. It was more entertaining than the times that Max left her bras in very awkward places for Fang to find (a picture of Fang's poor, harassed, face usually ensued). Although, that was a close second choice.

"Hey, Ella, have you seen that controller for the X-box anywhere?" Iggy asked, sticking his head around the corner of the kitchen, where she sat at the table, reading a magazine.

"Hold on, let me pull out my X-box-scanner and check."

"In that case, you can scan my X-box _any time._"

Ella threw her magazine, but Iggy disappeared too fast, cackling wildly. "Boys," she muttered. "That's all they think about: video games and girls."

"Unless you're Fang!" Iggy called, overhearing her mutter. "He won't tell me, but I know. He'll break poor Max's heart one day when he tells her he's got a boyfriend…"

"You won't _be_ a boy if you keep that up, Ig!" Max shouted, somewhere in the depths of the house. Ella really wondered how they could hear everything. Sure, they had super-hearing, but didn't even _that_ have limits?

"Is that an invitation to make me into a _man_, Max? You know Fang's gay so you want to deflower _someone_ before you die?"

"No, Iggy, I meant that _you're_ not going to be deflowering anyone if you keep talking! You won't have anything to do it with!"

"Then what? I don't do transvestite, Max."

"That shirt suggest otherwise."

"Only true men wear pink! I don't see Fang flaunting this shirt!"

"That's right, because Fang's a guy and he doesn't flaunt anything!"

Iggy smiled mischievously. "Nothing but his—"

"Iggy!" Ella screamed, clamping her hands on her ears. "Stop it! You're giving me a head ache and some vivid mental pictures that I would care not to have!"

"Are you saying that you're picturing Fang's—"

"IGGY!"

"Just don't let Angel anywhere near you…"

Ella walked into the living room to glare at Iggy. Sometimes, she really wondered about that kid…

"I hate you."

"That's not what you said last night."

"You're horrid."

"Oh, really? Then why were you screaming for more?"

"Do you think Max would mind if I slammed you into the coffee table?"

"You can slam me anywhere, babe."

Ella pinched the bridge of her nose. "I set myself up for that one."

"You set me up."

"Do you ever stop with the innuendos?"

Iggy pretended to think about it. "Well, if you wouldn't try to tear my clothes off every time we're alone together…"

"We're alone together right now, Iggy. Is _anyone_ trying to tear your clothes off?"

"It's not my fault that you're still having dirty thoughts about Fang's—"

"Fang's _what_?" Fang said from the doorway, casually leaning against the frame.

Iggy sent a panicked look towards Ella. "Shit," he muttered before vaulting himself over the back of the couch and racing away.

Ella glanced at Fang, who raised an eyebrow. "So…?"

Ella glanced towards the doorway Iggy had disappeared down. "Um…the weather?" She shot a panicked look towards Fang before sprinting after Iggy.


End file.
